Little paws must not grow large.
True to Keir's fears, the enemy is not slow to respond to a Dragon hatchling's birth. Certanshi assassins close in on his family, but they are not the only ones who want the Elves of Amarinthe and his scaly diamond miracle dead and buried in the snows.
The ill-prepared Elves must flee through snow and winter storm to the safety of the Arabaxa Jungles. Keir leads the way through the heart of the mountains, beneath the Dragon Kings peaks, into the lair of Santaclaws himself – but many dangers lie in wait. Ancient powers hunger for Dragon magic. Hunters scour the peaks, bringing storm and destruction.
Meantime, managing a growing hatchling brings many new challenges. Eating his father's boots is one matter. Demanding that he lose himself, his very being, in their magical bond is quite another.
If he would become a Dragon Guardian, Keir must face his greatest test yet.
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KRRR … KRRR? THE DRAGON hatchling bunted his ribs with her paw. Insistently.
“Och nae, again? Cannae be. Go to sleep.”
Krrrr!
No. How could she possibly still be hungry? Madness! She had barely cracked the eggshell that afternoon, and had scoffed at least ten meals already. Had he slept one hour undisturbed?
Lightly, Keir introduced the miraculous pest to the point of his elbow. “That is spelled s-l-e-e-p. Dinnae Dragons ken their first runes?”
Krrrr. Krrrr-Krrrr! A hot, dry tongue tickled the nape of his neck. Hint not taken.
Turning his back, Keir deliberately pulled the pillow over his head.
He even pretended to snore.
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Italian
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Already translated.
Translated by Laura Sguigna and Alessandra Elisa Paganin
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